V8: Chapter 6

…

How do you quantify faith?

No, I’m not going into a tangent again, like I did with bricks.

I want the minimum standard required for somebody to be considered a worshipper of something, so that I can get as many worshippers as possible for the Nature Goddess I’ve got sleeping in my basement.

In-game, it acted much like culture, but you can fuck yourself over by hosting smaller religions alongside your main ones. You can make temples, shrines, and districts and dedicate them to the religion that you want. Upkeep sent their way is used to boost their popularity through alms giving, charity work, and other such things that make them appealing to the masses. When it first came out, the wealthier, happier, and more educated your cities were, the slower the spread of religion in them, leading to less faith, and less progress in going through the religion tree’s upgrades and benefits.

That led to players making horrific slum cities with only bare necessities and no trade connections to the rest of the country. If everyone is sick, hungry, uneducated, and poor, then of course the people providing them with services and support would be lauded and praised. In fact, if you made the crime go up, and go out of your way to build things that lowered happiness, increased industrial pollution, and increased rates of sickness, the faith generated by the city in question would skyrocket even further. Everyone on the forums called them Cult Hives, stashed them in the worst regions to develop, and used them to print out Faith to invest into their religion trees.

The devs saw what we did and… gave us the option to turn it off, have it stay as-is, or enhance it with even better modifiers when the city is at maximum misery.

Gotta make the pure-misery, industry-only, and no-amenities build competitive somehow.

Anyway, I was wondering which mode I was working off of in order to efficiently invigorate the nature goddess locked up in my basement.

Do I need to make a Cult Hive stashed away in my city?

Can I just make a law for everyone to go to a temple of the goddess of nature once a week and pray there for an hour and enjoy a free lunch?

Or, maybe, I had to find something in the middle, plop down the buildings, and let things go naturally in order to just generate the average amount of Faith?

Pfft.

Lol, no.

I want my religion tech tree filled out before the game ends.

So, it’s either slum cities designed to be tests for the faithful, or mandatory weekly visits to the church to participate in a gathering and get food at the end.

Devs?

Do me a solid and please make generating Faith easy.

…

I was fairly sure the head ‘clown’ of the Smiling Tyrants changed every time I met them.

“Oh, greetings beloved master of the descendants. May I interest you in some delightful desserts, a dance, or perhaps a drama?” Each offer from the clown with a porcelain mask and jester’s hat came with a burst of magical imagery. The dessert was two cakes, then those cakes turned into cake figures that danced, and then the drama was when one figure started strangling one of the pair after rushing in from stage left. “Whatever it is that you desire, the wonderful, amazing, and grand circus of the Smiling Tyrant shall provide to the best of our ability!”

Dealing with these guys is pretty simple.

Be the straight man, since they’re the jokesters.

“I’ve found a goddess. I believe she needs the faith of the masses to reach full power. I want to understand how that works to ensure she’s as strong as possible.” The office of the head clown in charge was a small tent inside a larger tent which they called their mansion. The rooms were all tents, and in various states ranging from being neatly on the floor, to floating in a lazy orbit, to being suspended by a series of pulleys and ropes precariously in the very center. Stepping inside the tent/mansion was pretty much like walking right into a deranged art exhibit that combined stage props with magic. “Give me what I ask for, and I’ll give you a city and its surrounding province.”

The various villages and towns I founded a while back were now finally crossing the threshold and becoming cities. They exploited the tiles that the capital couldn’t reach, and once a threshold was crossed you could give them a district and specialize them. The biggest cities can have four districts, which was half the amount of a full-fledged capital city. In essence, I was going to move the Smiling Tyrant district from my capital to a city and seeing if they have more past their in-game questline, which usually ended after giving them a district and they allowed you to spam perpetual festivals around your Empire for practically a permanent boost to happiness and amenities and espionage.

Besides the Iterants, the Smiling Tyrant cultists were my best sources of outside information, since their followers travelled found work across the continent and gathered information as they did. If you hire a band of musicians for your gala, they’re probably Smiling Tyrant cultists. If you’re watching a play, the actors and staff are probably clown cultists.

Hell, if you’re getting catering for your fancy party and hiring servers?

Again, probably undercover clowns.

Giving them a city and upgrading again will probably have them completely infiltrate the entertainment and service centers of all the civilizations.

It’ll be a horrible world for people who fear clowns.

Anyway, back to the very important conversation.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oh? Finally! A queen for the jester to prank and to bewilder! Oh, what a glorious day! A pantheon will arise and our Laughing Lord will no longer have to shoulder the burden and return to being a trickster, fool, and jester!” The head clown fluttered around the room striking poses. They ranged from with one leg aloft with hands framing their face to cheering silently with arms spread wide. A full circuit in the room took just a few seconds, and used my blind spots to naturally appear posed as I tracked them. Neat. They finished by lying on their desk with both feet in the air and chin propped up on both hands, like a schoolgirl gossiping to a friend on a school night. “Which goddess did you find? The lovely mother of nature? The fierce and feisty goddess of war? Or, perhaps, the gloomiest goddess of them all: death?”

Should I be surprised about this sudden dump of information?

Yeah.

Am I?

No.

The Smiling Tyrant’s followers are the only religion that accepted every other religion. Of course, then, it was reasonable to assume that there was a doctrinal reason behind that.

What better reason than them knowing that other deities existed and they didn’t want to fight?

“The goddess we found has profound effects on her surroundings.” “I leaned forward in my chair and did my best to play the straight man in this scene. They won’t do anything silly to me, if being completely serious in my current scene was comedic already. “Flora and fauna both grow quickly. It may be a war goddess that’s very good at providing logistical support, but given her physiology is like a Children of the Elm’s instead of the Conqueror, I reckon she’s the nature goddess.”

“Ah, the comeliest and the most mothering of all the goddesses, then! Roused from her slumber with the Children of the Elm she must be, and be given a land to call her own.” The head clown rolled onto their back and jumped onto their feet, doing a little pirouette midair and executing a bow before standing imperiously on their desk like an orator with one hand on their chest and the other outstretched. I made sure to take a sip of tea while they did. Exactly while they were doing the spin. Comedy is all about timing. “Those that remain of the Children of the Elm will flock to her, and will finally find kindness and love in their hearts! Let us grant her a grand garden and retainers, before garbing her in white and dedicated her to you as swiftly as possible!”

I raised an eyebrow.

“My hand in marriage demands a lot in exchange. Is it necessary for me to marry her for her to support my cause?”

The head clown promptly fell back off their desk, onto their chair which broke apart in an instant, and to a sudden chaotic clash of noise.

There was a badum-tss in the cacophony.

“Egads! Could it be that the goddess of nature has not yet taken the heart of our King of Wisdom!? If she cannot suffice, then… who possibly can!?” The head clown feigned being faint, and someone reached through the tent’s wall to fan them with a comically small hand fan. Again, the timing was good. Once I got a look, the joke ended, and the head clown was back to business. “Can love not pierce the mind of logic our king has? Must everything be for the sake of the nation?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Of course, it is the least I can do in return for what I have been given.”

The light atmosphere faded as the head clown turned to face me and took off their mask.

A pale visage, but heavily scarred, looked at me with striking green eyes, blonde hair, and long ears.

The Smiling Tyrant cult took in followers from every race, but as was in the lore of the game, they were the outcasts of the Children of the Elm. Those who didn’t want to perform genocide upon the rest of the world. Probably the tour guides and the front-facing staff portion of the nature reserve maintenance race developed by the Ancients. Or, you know, just genetic offshoots that grew past their demented dedication to nature.

“Oh, King of Wisdom, none doubt your commitment to the nation. If you desire to follow your heart’s desires, it would not go amiss.” They were also a bunch of theatre kids that decided to maintain culture and literature as much as possible. The head clown took a seat behind the desk and levelled their gaze at me. Again, the head clown’s an elf. Them is the safest word to use. “The prophesized mother of our people will do as you bid without the bindings of matrimony. However, in all that remains of our scripts and memories, is that the goddess was to be bound to the Ancients through love.”

I shook my head.

“They were designed to be bound and to follow orders, then. Like slaves. And, I’m sure all here know how I view such things. I want no part of such a union.” It was easy to say. I found it disgusting. Imagine being made to do something, essentially a tool or asset, and being bound to whoever made you through ‘love.’ It sounded thoroughly fucked up. “I wish to marry and improve my nation through my union, yes, but I refuse to take part in such a binding. Even if it is composed and intended by the Ancients, I refuse it.”

Also, there was a caveat to that binding, besides it being already fucked up.

I’d rather threaten this goddess to do what I want by holding the remaining Children of the Elm hostage than ‘bind’ her to me through ‘love.’ Why? Because, from the in-game text, the connection goes both ways. The goddess influences the leader. Hell, the goddess can replace the leader and usurp them. They have their own stats and leader perks and everything. The leader character becomes a background wife/husband of the goddess, while the player ruler through the new deity for their nation and with a new national tech tree and everything.

Good way to get a new Leader, if you’ve messed up raising yours, or if their perks aren’t good for endgame.

But back to talking to the leader of the Smiling Tyrant.

“Then, I believe that you must choose the more arduous path. The path where you and the goddess shall become allies rather than partners.” The head of the Smiling Tyrants bowed their heads at my statement. If they approved or didn’t approve, they didn’t show it. In all honesty, the mask had more emotion. They were kinda creepy without it. “She will demand much from you, but she will find her own path, and understand that all is being done to save us from what remains of the foes that felled the Ancients.”

“Just like everyone else, then. That’s fine.” I got up and offered my hand to them and they accepted. Hm. Yeah, this was the same person I met years ago. The changes and costume and demeanor got me, but the handshake was the same. Or, maybe, that’s just what they wanted me to think. “Thank you for your help. I’ll contact you soon about making a more concrete plan to handle the situation.”

A faint smile formed on their face at my words.

“Contacting me ahead of time to schedule a moment to plan? My goodness, King of Wisdom, you lead quite the exciting, spontaneous life.”

“I do my best. Thank you for your time.” I gave a chuckle before turning away to leave with Ayah. Before I left, though, something else came to mind. “Hey, according to your myths and legends, how should the mother-goddess of your people and nature look?”

Basically, I did my best to ask about her lack of curves as politely as possible—

“Voluptuous beyond belief with a chest that could provide for a nursery entire—

“Got it. We’re done here.”

The head of the Smiling Tyrant chuckled and waved my way, while I excused myself. Figures they’ll take the opportunity to insinuate something.

At the very least, I confirmed that the Goddess of Nature wasn’t lore accurate now and needed any help before being roused from her slumber. I knew the devs would never cave to the demands and whims of people who don’t even play the game. And, of course, the fact that the people who play the game are degenerates who’ll never let go of their ideals.

Walking out onto the Smiling Tyrant’s dedicated district, I came to a decision.

“Have the settlement we prepared to set aside ready to receive the goddess. We’ll give her an isolated garden and surround her with budding adherents.” I’ll keep the religion that provides happiness and espionage to my nation in my capital, and have the goddess outside. She can go ahead and rule a little city and grow in power on a short leash (translation: within bombing range). “Find trustworthy Children of the Elm and offer them resettlement there, too.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Ayah bowed, and I knew that it’d be done.

Now, it’s time to prep to see everyone again for the celebration of our victory over the Death Lord.